The One
by Potatis02
Summary: Tilda has always known that she was different from the rest of the children in the orphanage, she could do things they couldn't and she could hear things they couldn't. She's a witch and she's going to go to a magic school called Hogwarts. Follow her and her friends through their school years and many adventures.
1. Chapter 1

AN: I wrote this chapter when I was like 14 so the writing in the next chapter is better

The young woman collapsed on the floor, exhausted, freezing and with little next to no hope left for her life to be spared, the adrenaline she once had, was gone, she only had the pain from previous beatings left. She places her hand on her stomach and let out a harsh breath before she hauled herself up from the floor and begun to slowly walk away from the street with only a single lamp from a window next to her, to provide her with light. She really began to question if there was a god that could spare her from her pain. With a few more steps the thought was long gone from her troubled mind for the pain was now starting to take a greater toll on her pregnant body. All she wanted to do was give up, lie down and let the darkness take her, the thought of giving in to the never ending darkness seemed very tempting but she knew she had to fight on, for the sake of her child, her only light left, the only reason she still had the privilege to breath. She could feel how her body soon wouldn't be able to take anymore of the pain, so with a few more heavy breath she hade made up her mind, her previous destination to take her to her sisters house was gone, replaced by the idea to deliver and leave child in the local orphanage not far from there. The woman knew she didn't have much time left before the darkness would take her. So with all the power she could muster from her dying body she begun to take longer faster steps, focusing on each and every one of them to take her mind of the pain and the subtle kicks her baby were giving her.

Though the woman knew this was meant to be she still couldn't help but feel bad for letting it happen. That she trusted him, that she slept with him and stayed with him after all and still kept thinking that she could fix him, take him away from the dark path on which he was traveling. She thought the baby would keep him from beating her but she was wrong, he kept beating her, abused her daily but not as hard since he didn't want to hurt his precious baby. His opportunity to have extreme powers. He had been waiting for this baby and he had read the prophecy about his baby, the baby with the immense power that no one could imagine. Oh how he wanted it, he needed it, he would take it. While she thought he didn't care about the baby, he did, he cared, he didn't let her do anything that could harm his baby, of course he knew it would be a girl, his soon to be princess. He craved to have someone he could turn to in his time of need, someone that would always be there, so he cared. He cared lots, just not about the woman that was carrying the baby, for he had only used her in one purpose, to make this was a big part of making the prophecy come true so he used his charm and tricked her into falling in love with him and therefore she was more than willing to give him a child. She didn't regret it of course, she loved her baby. So she escaped, she had heard what he was planning to do so the next day she escaped with the help of one of her most loyal friends, of course the friend couldn't escape with her but had to return to the man they escaped. Just before she apparated she could hear the screams coming from the man she thought she loved, the frustrated roars of anger and the cries of his followers.  
She let a few salty tears fall down her bruised and tired face before pushing the thoughts of the past out of her head for she could not bare to think about it more without breaking down.

When she rounded the next corner she was immediately blinded with light from the orphanage that she finally reached, she let out a shaky chuckle and draged her body the last few steps until she could knock on the big doors of the seemingly grey wooden doors. With three heavy knocks the doors opened and a woman in her late twenties stuck her head with long brown locks out, only to have her grey eyes widening at the sight before her. The pregnant woman begged with her lifeless eyes to the other woman so that she would let her in the warmth, to allow her to make the final effort before being relieved of her pain in this world. Snapping out of her thoughts the woman named Elsa let the pregnant woman in the orphanage and begun to collect different people from the staff to help her with the birth of the child.

They laid her down on one of the vacant beds in the far far corner of the big room that they had dragged her in. The lamps on the walls shining bright making the pregnant woman see different figures dancing around the room. Elsa and the staff shared worried glances with each other before telling the woman that they would help her deliver her baby. The woman in question eagerly nodded and begun to mentally prepare herself for some more pain, it will soon be over she told herself over and over again.

With the last effort she pushed a last time and the staff and Elsa let out a sigh when the woman below them took one look on the baby in Elsa's hand before mustering a single smile while saying the name which they should name the baby. With a last look on the baby now named Tilda Andersson the woman closed her eyes and the darkness begun to take her, the last sound she heard before it totally engulfed her was the gurgling laugh of her little Tilda.

While the darkness overtook the woman the newly born Tilda stared at her mother with a small smile on her lips and with the staff standing besides her had on similar dumbfounded expressions on their faces at the baby. For the baby hadn't cried when she was born like all the other had, no she had been quiet and immediately sought out her mother before letting out a little laugh and smiling.

Finally realizing where she was the baby instantly got shy and hid her face in the crook of Elsa's neck. The latter smiling fondly at her before gently walking over to a crib made of wood, placing the baby inside and giving her cheek a last tender stroke before turning away to tend to her mothers now dead body.

The staff helped her bring the body outside where they dug a hole in the ground before gently placing the woman inside of it. Letting out a hot tear Elsa sealed her grave with shaky hands, she placed a single flower on it before taking the staff with her and left the place.

Inside the dull orphanage baby Tilda had stopped smiling, now being alone she had begun to frown and let out a few tears because of the absence of her mother,of the calming touch she needed and the once oh so happy and soothing voice.

Feeling sleepy the baby turned to the side and closed her eyes and slowly sleep begun to overtake her unaware of the prying eyes of a man with a long silver beard watching her close and with interest. Could this be her? The man asked himself, he couldn't ignore the signs of this actually being her, if so it was terrible that the baby now was going to spend her life in an orphanage. With a last look on the baby he decided that it was late and time to leave. So the man did, turning around and started walking down the same street the woman he used to know walked on not so long ago. He remembered a time where she attended to the school which he is the headmaster of. The way she captured everyones eyes, not all of them with good intentions in mind. With a last longing look on the orphanage the man apparated away with one last thought in mind, she was the one.


	2. Chapter 2

Tilda was at first a very happy baby, never crying and never seen with a frown on her chubby face, then all she did was glare at the staff and the other children in the orphanage. They could all taste the hate pouring from the young child and now her face remained blank, emotionless and the once happy eyes had dulled. Even so, Tilda was an extremely charming child and she knew it, she used it to her advantage and everyone fell for her little act but inside she was always plotting a way to get out of there and to take revenge on all of those who have wronged her but for now she would play her act and lick her wounds until it was time.

She had always known that she was different from the other kids, she could feel it in her bones, how something swirled inside her waiting to be freed. She could feel it in her anger, how something wanted to be released upon her enemies, she could feel it bubbling under the surface and she could feel it twisting and turning when she had to play nice to the other children. Her anger, oh her anger. She could always feel her anger, waiting to burst at any moment. She didn't feel much that was true but she could feel anger and she could feel hate. Her existence was plagued by an indescribable amount of anger towards anyone that wronged her and the children had witnessed small fragments of that anger.

It was no secret that her presence was unwanted at the orphanage, they were all scared of her and what she could do. Her blank eyes intimidated and scared them, her charm disarmed them and her revenge left them haunted. The owner of the orphanage didn't care for the girl, never had. The only one who had even remotely showed her any kind of love was the late maid Elsa, the one who had personally helped her mother during birth. When Elsa died so did the last piece of light in Tildas life.

Tilda had noticed that she was different from the other children when she was very young when she had pushed an older boy out of a tree with a single glance. The power she had felt was exhilarating, the rush that flowed through her body had been almost euphoric. She had always known that she was better than them, superiour, and this confirmed her thoughts. She could hurt them in ways they couldn't even imagine and it couldn't be traced back to her even if everyone thought she did it. The old owner of Wool's orphanage didn't seem as surprised as the other though when strange things started happening around the orphanage. Almost as if she had expected it. She had muttered under her breath one day thinking that Tilda wouldn't hear her, that history was repeating itself. That had certainly piqued TIldas interest, to think that she wasn't the only advanced human in a sea of untalented, unworthy, inferior humans. She had heard whispers among the older workers that she was just like a boy they used to know, a Tom Riddle, he too had displayed great feats of magic and frightened the children just as she had.

The girl longed for the day that she would be free of the orphanage, of the grey walls and the high fences that encircled the "play yard". The day that she turned 18 she would finally show the world what she was capable off and it would tremble in fear and everyone that ever stood in her path or tormented her during her time in Wool's would suffer. It was only 8 years left and she counted every second of it.

* * *

**Two months earlier**

It was a day just like any other day- the sun was hiding behind thick clouds and icy winds forced everyone to remain inside. Tilda was no exception, she could be found curled up under several blankets that she had "borrowed" from the other children in her own room. Really she should be sharing with some other orphan girls but everyone was too scared to bunk with her so the owner had no choice but to put her in her own room. At first the silence and loneliness bothered her, she may be cold but she still felt the burning loneliness but a few years later and no more friends than when she got there and it didn't bother her as much. Still, she sometimes felt small pang of hurt when she saw the other children laughing and playing together and she was left alone.

Downstairs a trio of hard knocks could be heard from the big oak doors and a hush fell over the children near it, it was highly unusual that anyone would come knocking on the orphanage's door.

"Someone open the door!" A shrill voice barked at the children and they all scrambled to their feet and towards the door. They knew that when the owner ordered them to do something that they should do it or bear the consequences.

A small skinny girl called Julie opened the heavy door and stared stunned at the man waiting outside of it. With a great long beard and long robes accompanied with a hat and glasses resting on the bridge of his nose the man smiled at the child. "This is Wool's orphanage?" The man asked the question feigning confusion, he knew exactly where he was, it was not that long ago that he had to get another gifted child from this place.

Julie shakily nodded and continued to stare at the man.

"Can I come inside, it is awfully cold out here" The bearded man kindly asked.

"Y-yes, sir"

The man or rather Dumbledore gracefully walked inside the grey prison that was Wool's orphanage and nodded his thanks. He knew who he was looking for but he didn't know what to expect, did he expect another Tom? A child ruined by the aching loneliness and awfull treatment that he endured as a child or a broken, sad child that still held a great deal of hope inside his/her heart. His only hope was that no matter the state of the poor child it would not be too late to fix it all bring the child into the light. To let the child feel the burning passions of love, to feel the bubbling feeling of uncontrollable laughter and the breathless feeling afterwards. To feel the warmth seeping into your bones when in company of the dearest friends and the feeling of success. If only the child would not walk the same path as her father, his biggest regret. To this day he still thinks of all the things he could have done to prevent the great tragedy that is her father, to spare everyone of the pain that he felt that he had to bring upon them. If only he had been able to bring her father into the light before it was too late, he had so many chances to make a difference but he allowed his personal feelings to hinder him from doing what was best for the child. He could see how he as a child was full of darkness and still he didn't do enough to guide him from that path, Dumbledore allowed the poor child to continue falling into the dark abyss until he could no longer be brought out of it.

This was his chance to save an innocent child from the cruel world, he would not fail this time. She would be getting all of the support from him that he could give and yet even he knew that he could not bring her out of the orphanage. He knew that to truly save her she would have to remain in that place, she would have to continue dealing with her uncontrollable anger in such a place that she would need to exercise the utmost of control and she would need to keep her hopes up no matter what the world throws at her.

Ignoring the stuttering patron walked after him, he continue his way to the only room that could belong to the child he seeked, it was the same room that another magically gifted child used to occupy before he left. He wondered if it looked the same, how much of him would he find in her?

The door had been replaced- it was now a dull grey shade and he could feel the many bumps and scratches on the outside. The wizard knocked twice and then twist the doorknob and let himself in. Dumbledore was hit with a feeling of nostalgia as he took in the room that still haunted him in his dreams. The bed was in the same place, if he looked close enough he could see the same scratches that occupied the metal frame with a few new ones added. The wardrobe that he had set on fire too was in the same place, the only difference is that it too was full of scratches and blotches of blood could be found on its doors. It seemed as if the children had the same anger, she more so than him and yet she had none of the control that he had. The desk had been moved only a few centimeters to the right and Dumbledore swore that he could see _him_ sitting there, smirking at him. He tore his eyes away from the desk that had none of the things that _his_ used to have, the poor child had no books, no nothing. The headmaster's eyes locked themselves on the face that could be seen peeking out behind the many blankets that she surrounded herself in. Two pairs of dark eyes are coldly observing him as he moves closer and despite the initial coldness he could see the hot burning anger seep through the cracks.

"Tilda, my name is Albus Dumbledore" He begins and he could see her perk up slightly, cocking her head to the side just as he did.

"Are you a doctor? Have you come to _cure_ me?" The young child sit up straighter and one by one the blankets fall from her and at the end of the sentence he could practically feel the venom in her voice and see her muscles coiling-getting ready to put up a fight.

"No, no, no, my child. You are not ill, there is nothing to cure." He smile gently and despite his instincts screaming at him to not come any closer to the dangerous child he sit down on the bed besides her. He was very sure that if she was treated as a volatile beast then she would become one, she would only be playing the role she was given. "You see, I am a headmaster at a school for very special children"

" A school for special children?" Tilda asked the weird man that had taken a seat on her bed, every muscle in her body was tense as she waited for an attack. She didn't buy it, there was no way that he was here to take her to a school full of people like her. There was no one like her, she wouldn't entertain the thought that the other special boy that lived here before her was still alive. Besides, the doctors were smart people, if she was anyone else she would have fallen for that the moment he brought it up. Any other child would be jumping in glee and packing their things, ready for their new adventure but she was not any other child. She was smarter than the doctors, she knew all the tricks.

"A school for children like you" He boldly state and he can see how the coldness in her eyes and the indifference on her face melt away to reveal the raging beast behind the mask.

" A school for children like _me_?" She spat and she could feel her inner beast twisting and turning, beginning her to let it out to fight the old man that dare try to hurt them.

Seeing what conclusion that she had jumped to and the walls rushing up to protect the child, Dumbledore smile and shake his head. "A school for magical children, witches and wizards, Tilda"

It was at that moment that Dumbledore could see that deep down Tilda was just a lonely, hurt child that was trying to protect herself. He could see the anger diminishing and the slightest glint of hope being lighted in her eyes. "Would you like to go to such a school? We would teach you all about magic and you would make many new friends"

At the word friends she recoiled, she had no friends, she's never had friends and she doesn't need friends. "I don't have any money"

"Money is not a problem, the school has a fund for children with little money" Dumbledore knew that he was getting to her, he knew that she had a deep burning passion for learning things and would never say no to the chance to learn all about magic. "You would be staying at the school during the terms and only return to the orphanage in summers and if you so wish christmas"

"It's a boarding school" Tilda states and Dumbledore nods in response. " How will I get there?"

"Hogwarts is in Scotland so you will be going by train. The train leaves at precisely 11 in the morning from platform 9 3/4 from King's Cross station in London. I will be sending one of the teachers to help you buy your school supplies" Dumbledore informe the 11 year old child and then reach into his robes to bring out a letter with the Hogwarts emblem stamped on it. "Here is your letter"

Tilda take the letter and then look up at the man as he makes his way out of her room and when the door closes she lets out a sigh of relief. She would be leaving this place and come back stronger and more powerful than ever.


	3. Chapter 3

**Two hours earlier**

Days went and came and no witch or wizard had come to take Tilda shopping. She wasn't surprised, she didn't expect the crazy man to actually tell the truth but she was still feeling some kind of hurt deep down. The kind of hurt that is illogical, the kind you know you shouldn't be feeling but you can't help but feel it. The old man had actually managed to climb or rather fly over some of her walls, he had managed to install a glimpse of hope inside of her that someone actually cared about her. Of course it was foolish of her to even believe such a thing, Tilda should have listened to her gut feeling.

All of a sudden there's a knock on her door and then a soft creaking sound as the door was opened. The not so friendly face of one of the matrons on the orphanage popped up behind the opened door. "There's someone here to see you." The black-eyed matron told the child curtly before nodding and walking away, leaving the door open. She got a sense of deja vu when another mysterious man walked into her room. She could feel the beast inside her, the raw heat and power bristle as if readying itself to attack, when she realised that this man was not Dumbledore. This wasn't right. A wizard was supposed to pick her up and bring her away from this world and into one so magically amazing that her beast would go to sleep and the power inside of her go from a raging storm to a gentle breeze. This man was not her saviour, he didn't look like a wizard. He didn't wear anything colourful, didn't have a long beard or anything like the alleged headmaster of the magic school. No, this looks like a doctor. The greasy hair, the crooked nose and the beady black eyes that seemed to try to pierce her soul. He wore long black robes, maybe the orphanage hired some kind of unorthodox doctor that made the same promises. That he would cure her, turn her normal. Of course there is no such thing as normal but the close-minded matrons of the establishments longed for the security that came with the term.

"Are you a doctor?" Tilda bite out tensely, her teeth grinding against each other when he didn't respond. The heat was rising and her control waning.

"No" The not doctor drawled slowly as he advanced towards her with fluid movements. Each step made her heart jump, her hands sweat and her beast roar.

Tilda's eyebrows were shaking, her eyes watering and little sparks flew from her hands as she stared at them man. He seemed unbothered by the display but she knew better, she could smell the nervousness roll off of him in waves. He was scared of her, imagine his terror if he actually knew what she could do. What she would do if the situation wasn't handled correctly, what she was capable of if she learnt how to harvest the power inside of her, channel the beast and make it obey her.

"Are you the devil?" She asked in a child like voice. "Are you here to take me away?"

"I am Severus Snape, a... teacher" He, Severus, told the tense girl.

She cast him an dull look. "A teacher? Why are you here, teacher"

"I was under the impression that Dumbledore informed you of my visit" Snape drawled as if speaking to a small child, which he was. "We are to go to Diagon Alley and buy the necessary school supplies. Now quickly, we are already late" He hurried her, ignoring the way her eyes flamed up when he touched her.

Tilda jumped away from the strange man and with a glare stood up from the old bed. This man seemed to know Dumbledore, or at least know of Dumbledore. Deciding to take a leap of faith that is entirely out of character for her she take the outstretched arm that was presented to her. The black robes felt scratchy to her fragile skin and she withheld a shudder when the rancid smell of god knows what seemingly poisoned her nose.

Only a moment after she took the arm Snape apparated without warning. Tilda was too stunned by the sensation of a apparition to care about the slight nausea that came along. Gone was her room and instead a bustling street full of people in colourful clothes and all the stereotypical things one can imagine when you think about a magical world and its inhabitants. There were shop after shop lining up on the crowded street and the small pathways and alleyways. Some with animals, some with books, some with clothes etc. There seemed to be a shop for everything.

Tilda was looking around stunned by the beauty surrounding her, she had never experienced such a thing before and the sight left her both speechless and frozen. A small grunt from the man beside her snapped her focus back on her surroundings, the magic lessening and the colours dulling. "We have so much to do and very little time, girl. Hurry now"

She offered no response to the rude reminder that this was a world that she didn't yet belong to. Tilda followed the man and had to walk very fast to match the pace held by the tall man in front of her. It would be quite easy to lose him in the sea of people if he wasn't dressed in all black and had the appearance that could only belong to him, she reckoned.

The pair pushed their way past people, children and house elves on the way to their first stop. Snape had mentioned getting a wand, a stick to wield her magic with. Not that she needed it, she had trained a lot with doing magic without a wand. She was filled with warmth when she imagined how much more powerful she would be with a wand compared to how powerful she was already without one.

They stopped in front of a grey painted small store, cozed up in the corner of the large street. 'Ollivanders'. It had several floors and she could see the warm yellow light that illuminated the small store. This was the wand shop, the first stop in her journey to greatness. To be remembered forever.

AN: Just a short chapter:) Please leave a comment


	4. Chapter 4

Present Time, Tilda's POV

This was going to be the moment that will forever change my life, I'm finally getting my own wand. Something that is a reflection of myself, my truest self or something like that. Snape told me that the wand chooses the wizard, I don't know how I feel about that yet. How do I know what wand has chosen me? How do I know that this wand will help me become the most powerful me? I don't, and that's the problem. I accepted a long time ago that I have problems controlling myself, or rather I have issues letting go of that control. The professor assured me several times that it will all be fine and I will get the perfect wand for me. Not that I know much about wands, the only one I've ever seen is Dumbledore's. Though I didn't get a chance to really look at it, it was almost as if he was hiding it from me.

And now here I am, about to get my wand. I pride myself on my ability to keep my composure and hide all of my emotions behind a carefully calculated facade, but I can't help but to stand frozen in front of the man. Ollivander, the wand maker. What if no wand chose me? What if I made a fool of myself in front of everyone. No this wouldn't do, I shake my head, these thoughts aren't helping me.

"What's your name?" The old man ask with a kind smile on his tired, old face.

"Tilda" I answer confidently. Fake it 'till you make it. "I am here for my wand"

"Of course you are" Ollivander laugh, a high pitched sound that hurt my ears. How dare he laugh at me?! I can feel the beast snarling in her cage, attacking the bars relentlessly trying to get out. I can feel my magic swirling around in my veins, waiting to be unleashed but I take a deep breath. Inhale, exhale, repeat, until I calm down. "Now which is your wand arm?"

"Right" I answer and stick said arm forward, towards the measurement tape that was floating in the air. I wonder what the length of my arm had anything to do with my wand, maybe it was a factor. Snape wouldn't tell me much about the actual process, I don't think he ever cared enough to find out. That's dumb, in my opinion, how can you live your life in a world where you don't know how things around you work? I mean I'd understand if he didn't understand how the floo network worked but his wand? He uses that tool everyday and yet he knows nothing about it besides things Ollivander has told him.

The tape fly up to my arm and quickly take my measurements before snapping back together and flying away, probably to another child waiting for their first wand. I wonder if there's more children here, without their parents, accompanied by a professor that couldn't care less about you.

"Interesting" Ollivander mutter, a far away look in his eyes. "I wonder what will fit you"

I didn't answer the man, I saw no point in it. He didn't ask a question or a statement that I should by the norms of society provide a comment for. The man stumble towards the back of the room where the big shelves full of boxes of wands lay. Ollivander shift through what must have been hundreds and hundreds of wand boxes before he brings one out to me.

"Here" He offered me the wand with a weary look on his face. "This should be the one, there can't be any other for you"

I take the wand and turn it over in my palm. It was a pale beige or white color, with small decorations on it like the pattern of a thornbush. Small almost unnoticeable bumps could be felt at the end of it, them being a slightly darker shade of color than the rest. It had a slight curve downwards in the middle of it, almost unnoticeable to the naked eye. I twist it around in my hand, feeling the small ridges, indents and bumps. This was the wand that was going to make me great, the wand that I would use the rest of my life. My perfect match. "What core is it?" I ask the man after a few minutes of close inspection.

The man before me swallow, averting his eyes before whispering his response. "Thestral, with yew wood"

I whisper it to myself, repeating it to make sure it sticks in my mind. I've got a yew wood wand with a Thestral hair core"

"I thank you, wand maker" I thank softly, bowing my head. The inner beast silent for once, appreciating the fact that we've now go a tool that will make us more powerful than ever. I was going to show my filthy parents that I was something worthy of keeping, someone that was going to be great and powerful. I'll show everyone just how powerful I can be when aggravated. And the gods know that I have been aggravated enough in this life to last me a lifetime of pent up aggression and anger. The kids at the orphanage better watch out or they will find themself drawing the shorter stick in the game of life expectancy. "How much is it?"

His shaky voice reaches my ears again after him thinking a few seconds on the price. "You need to try it out first" Ollivander clears his throat and rub a wrinkled hand over his tired face. "Swish it around and we'll see if I've finally found it's match"

I do as he asked, I knew that the wand is my perfect match but I understand his concern. I swish the wand gently in the air, fingers holding it lightly as if to not crush it, making a small circle movement. A sudden flash of a strong blue shoots out of the end of it and hits a bookshelf on the right, making it explode and the books fly into the air. The destroyed pages flew around peacefully in the air, broken pieces of wood scattered around the small shop. A broken cover balancing on Ollivander's head and one of the shelves lying broken on the streets outside.

I let out a sharp woah, accompanied by a gleeful bubbling laughter coming straight from my stomach. My power still surging through my veins, pulsing angrily, waiting to be used again. Yes, this is indeed the wand for me. It would be my closest companion and the key to my success. Yes, this was going to work just fine.

"How much is it?" I ask when my pulse slowed down to a rate much closer to my resting one. My voice rang clear over the desk and I can see Ollivander flinch slightly.

"Nothing, take it and leave. I can't have such raw power inside here" He muttered the last sentence to himself as he busied himself with fixing the mess I made. In my defence he was the one that asked me to demonstrate, I knew already and yet he wanted to see it for himself.

I thank him quietly and walk out of the shop with my head held high and my lips stretched into a large smirk.


	5. Chapter 5

After getting my wand from Ollivander's I wandered around the streets aimlessly. My hand hadn't released the hard grip it had on my new wand and the ridges were starting to bite into the skin of my palms. It felt good, it reminded me of the power I held and what power I could channel. Snape was nowhere to be seen but I didn't think that would last very long, the man had a nasty habit of being everywhere at all times, especially when you don't want him to be.

"Ms Voldottir" His monotone voice called her attention and she turned around to face the man with the bat-like face and beady dark eyes. "It's time to leave for the orphanage. I trust you like your wand and find it... satisfactory", Snape continued and stared at the wand in her hand, his face blank and then a flash of something flew by in his eyes.

"Yes, professor." Tilda answered with a nod, still trying to contain the beast roaring and swirling around inside of her. Something that she feared would never go away, much less now that she had a more direct link to her magic. All her life people had been blind to her struggles with control, but now she had hope that the other wizards and witches understand her.

Snape nodded though he now looked anywhere but her wand and her face. "Grab my arm" He told her and she obeyed without hesitation, like a good student should.

The two apparated away from Diagon Alley and back inside of her grey, dull room back at Wool's orphanage, and Tilda felt all the joy she had gotten from the trip sucked out of her as soon as her feet planted back on the broken floor.

She let go of her future professor's arm and walked away from him with hard, brisk steps. Tilda shook her head and dropped the bag of books, other materials like the cauldron and clothing that Snape had practically thrown into her arms after buying them, on her bed. She daintily sat down on the bed with her back ramrod straight and eyes staring right ahead at the cracked wall.

"I will see you in September, professor Snape" She dismissed him when he still hadn't left after a few minutes of awkward, tense and uncomfortable silence that had fallen on them as he stared at her. The beast rattled the cage and the burning anger inside of her rocked the wall she had raised to keep it in at his staring but Tilda kept her face blank as to not let Snape know of her struggles.

Without replying Snape turned on his tail and briskly walked out of the orphanage as if the devil was on his heels just waiting to swoop him up. His black robe swooshed behind him and she got a quick look at his eyes before he slammed the door behind him closed. Pain. There was old and new pain in his eyes that would be forever burned into her mind.

Tilda closed her eyes and placed her wand on her pillow with the gentlest of motions, the tool meaning more to her than anything else she owned. As soon as she put it away she could feel the control it had given her slip away and it became much harder to contain the always angry beast inside of her. It swirls around in her and spreads the burning heat everywhere inside of her. Disappointment colored the beast blue. She would have to be stuck inside the dreary orphanage until September and only then will she leave and fulfill her destiny to become the most powerful witch in all of history- by all means necessary. She would do anything and sacrifice everything for it.

A month until then, an entire month she would have to spend on her best behaviour unless she wanted Dumbledore to come back and tell her she's not allowed to go to the school. Tilda wasn't sure if the wizard was keeping track of her but she had a feeling in her gut that he had never stopped. A snarl grew in her chest at the thought of the old man- something instinctual almost, an instant dislike she couldn't shake. His eyes on hers made the beast angry like none had ever managed and his eyes on her burned her skin. He feared her, she could sense it, and it felt good. It was intoxicating and she was addicted to it.

Tilda let the slight twist of her mouth drop down into a blank face when she heard knocking on her door. She wanted to scream at the person, she wanted to hurt them for daring to disturb her but she knew she couldn't allow herself to give in to that temptation. Tilda would keep hiding behind her carefully put up facade of a calm, emotionless but still nice, kind and polite child that all liked. No one could know, least of all her new teachers that were the path to greatness and honor.

"What is it?" She called out with her eyes focused on the wall in front of her to avoid letting the beast still agitated from Snape out. Tilda's eye twitched a particularly hard bump from it but she forced it down; just like she had always done.

A childish voice came through the door. "Elise wanted to know who visited you" The little girl giggled after finishing and knocked on her door again. Tilda winced internally with each knock but if you looked at her you would never know of her struggles- such was her mask.

"It was a guest" She responded back with a mild amount of charming lilt to it though her face remained blank and her eyes unfocused. The beast was screaming to be let out but she had 11 years of practice with dealing with it and subdued it once again. "Did you need anything else?" Tilda asked when she hadn't gotten a reply yet

"No-o" The child replied back, probably picking up on the slight bite to her tone. Tilda wasn't as concerned with what the other orphans thought of her, they didn't matter and as soon as she could she would leave them behind.

"Then leave me alone" She had run out of patience with the child and couldn't help the bite in that one. She heard the child run away from her door and felt a brief pang of satisfaction that even the smallest feared her and obeyed her every wish. Though Elise feared the younger girl she still fought against her at every whim and if Tilda didn't have to be careful with her gifts Elise would have stopped bothering her a long time ago, alas she had to be and had only punished the girl moderately.

Tilda picked up one of the books she had placed on her pillow and flipped it around to read the title. 'Hogwarts: A history', it read in a yellow against bold red. She leaned down to smell the pages and felt her lip curl a bit at the smell of freshly printed pages. She much more liked the smell of old books worn down by the ages than fresh ones without memories or value. Tilda opened it up and felt herself get swallowed by the words within, telling her the history of her soon-to-be home.

AN: To anyone who's reading this, I'm so sorry for the long wait and I have not forgotten you. We will be getting into the first movie/book soon.


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